<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Withdrawal by frostwitch</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680946">Withdrawal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostwitch/pseuds/frostwitch'>frostwitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SaiOuma Week (2020) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Both Shuichi and Kokichi are severely sleep-deprived, Chubby Saihara Shuichi, Comfort/Angst, Danganronpa Post Game, Danganronpa Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Killing Game Was A Virtual Reality Simulation (Dangan Ronpa), Kokichi is dealing with suicidal thoughts, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Oneshot, Out of Character Oma Kokichi, Post-Canon Fix-It, Sad Oma Kokichi, Saiouma Week 2020, Shuichi and Kokichi have PTSD, moderate angst, oumasai, saiouma, that's the only reason I'm not tagging this as 'major character death'</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:47:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,665</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostwitch/pseuds/frostwitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chosen Prompts for Day #3 and 4: | Postgame | Hurt/Comfort</p><p>Plagued by nightmares about the fake deaths of his classmates, Shuichi wakes up in the middle of the night for the fifth time. He resigns himself to staring out the window and waiting for sunrise until he hears a knock on his door.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>SaiOuma Week (2020) [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>333</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Withdrawal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Shuichi doesn’t bother trying to fall asleep. </p><p> </p><p>He turns on his side, eyes snapping open to a room bathed in darkness. Ghostly light from the street lamp outside stretches up to meet the window pane, which casts a distorted shadow on the far wall. It doesn’t take him long to give into the temptation to check the time.</p><p> </p><p><em> 1:24 A.M </em>. </p><p> </p><p>On his first night in the hospital, waking up to the soft glow of the digital clock next to his bed soothed him. It serves as proof that time marches forward, and never stops, a thought that used to feel comforting. But now the unyielding passage of time just feels... cold. Uncaring. Empty. Now, it’s become warped, a constant reminder of the time he’s lost. How many seconds ticked by while he wasted away in that cryogenic chamber. </p><p> </p><p>How many days has it been since he signed up for this, made the decision that ruined his life? How many weeks? Months? </p><p> </p><p>Shuichi doesn’t know the answer. He isn’t sure if he <em> wants </em>to know the answer.</p><p> </p><p><em> 1:25 A.M </em>. </p><p> </p><p>For the past week, he’s gone to bed at the same time every night. Then, he’s inevitably jerked awake by another fading nightmare, denied the rest his body craves so desperately as another panic attack tears through his lungs. They leave behind the scars of breaths that died trying to claw their way out of him. </p><p> </p><p>When his breathing evens out between each choked back sob and the uncontrollable shaking of his limbs weakens to a quiver, he still doesn’t get the luxury of passing out from sheer exhaustion. Because his brain no longer has the ability to tell the difference between illusion and reality, and his friends’ dead faces--the friends he eats lunch with in the cafeteria; made of flesh and blood and bone, the living, breathing friends he sees every single day--are burned into his eyelids. </p><p> </p><p>The clearest afterimages belong to the ones who were executed, most vivid among them Kaede’s. Sometimes he can’t look them in the eye without seeing the ghost of the person they never were, dead before they even got the chance to live. At first he could ignore it, tell himself they’re alive and that’s what matters, then throw himself into as much busy work as possible. When he wasn’t diligently practicing his physical therapy exercises, he found other tasks to occupy himself with--teaching himself how to patch torn clothes, reading, watching, or playing any piece of mystery-related content he could get his hands on, baking apple puff pastries for everyone but himself to enjoy. But Shuichi could only outrun the consequences of his own selfishness for so long.</p><p> </p><p>He deserves it, he thinks. Deserves to have each moment of peace ripped from his grasp before he gets the chance to cherish it. To suffer for what he’s done, who he used to be. What he’s become. </p><p> </p><p>On one particularly bad night, he went for a walk around the exercise facilities, only to be stopped by a concerned Rantaro. After a painfully awkward conversation about developing healthier sleeping habits, Shuichi returned to his room. For the rest of his night, he’d laid motionless on the bed, nauseating pangs of guilt pinning him to the mattress. Following this incident, Shuichi resolved to stay in his room at night unless there was some sort of emergency. Though, after being face-to-face with death in a killing game, spending his nights alone in the dark doesn’t make him feel particularly reassured. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a knock at his door, soft but loud enough that Shuichi knows he’s not imagining it. Weighing his options, he decides pretending to be asleep isn’t worth the hassle of the others confronting him at breakfast. </p><p> </p><p>Shuichi pulls the door open, squinting instinctively as his eyes are exposed to the hallway’s dim lighting. Before he can think up an excuse to avoid an extensive conversation with his late night visitor, the silhouette interrupts him.</p><p> </p><p>“...Hey.” </p><p> </p><p>His voice comes out labored and hoarse, as though the person it belongs to walked a thousand miles across the desert to see him. Something about the singsong lilt in his tone feels vaguely familiar. </p><p> </p><p>Wait… </p><p> </p><p>“K-Kokichi?” He blinks hard and rubs his eyes, waiting for them to adjust. A messy-haired boy leans against the door frame, gazing up at him expectantly. </p><p> </p><p>“Can we talk?” </p><p> </p><p>Shuichi purses his lips, glancing around his room. It’s not that he doesn’t <em> like </em>the other boy, but he’s taken off guard by the sudden request. And, well, they’re not exactly close friends, especially after the fourth trial. But Kokichi is one of the few people he can look in the eye without seeing the face of a corpse. Shuichi chalks that up to his manner of death, feeling a wave of guilt surge through his chest at how grateful he is that the boy died in such a gruesome way. </p><p> </p><p>Kokichi notices his hesitation and takes a step back into the light. He looks… small. Shuichi wracks his sleep-deprived brain, but can’t find a more accurate word to describe him with. The boy’s plum locks are disheveled from tossing and turning under a pile of pillows, matted and sweaty. His porcelain skin is flushed and shiny, only drawing more attention to the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Frail? Maybe feeble was a better word. No, fragile. </p><p> </p><p>Looking down at his feet, the boy whispers, “I can’t sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s all it takes for Shuichi to cave. He moves aside to make room for his visitor, propping the door open with a foot. Kokichi shoots him a wan smile, brushing past the taller boy and into the room. Shuichi closes the door behind him, locking it before he feels his way to the window. Kokichi follows, combing a hand through his hair and pushing it behind an ear so his companion can see his face. There’s a pause before Shuichi can think of something to say. </p><p> </p><p>“Me neither. Can’t sleep, I mean.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know.” With an unreadable expression, the shorter boy glances down at his feet. “You’ve been having nightmares for days. Bad ones.” </p><p> </p><p>“...Huh? Wait, how do you know that?” </p><p> </p><p>Maybe the lack of sleep is starting to get to him, he can readily admit that much. But something in his brain isn’t clicking, because he doesn’t understand how Kokichi knows something he hasn’t told anyone. The last time Shuichi checked, he wasn’t psychic.</p><p> </p><p>Shifting, the boy fiddles with one of his sleeves, eyes finding his face once more as he continues. </p><p> </p><p>“My room is next door. Your bed is up against the same wall as mine, and the walls here are pretty thin, so…” He trails off, looking away as if he’s unable to maintain eye contact. “Sometimes I hear things I’m probably not supposed to. And I know you just woke up from a nightmare, because you screamed.” </p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>Kokichi offers him a sympathetic smile as the realization hits that this has happened before. In fact, it’s probably happened every night this week. With a groan, Shuichi covers his face, trying to block out the prickly heat of humiliation washing over him. </p><p> </p><p>“Please tell me I didn’t wake you up.” He doesn’t think he can handle any more shame.</p><p> </p><p>Kokichi’s eyes widen in comprehension, and he gives a quick shake of his head. “Nope, not at all. I’m a light sleeper, but that’s only when I actually sleep.” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.” Shuichi furrows his brow, carefully studying the shorter boy’s face. “You <em> have </em>been sleeping, though, right…?”</p><p> </p><p>The heavy silence that follows is more than enough of an answer. The boy’s fingers twitch, and he tries to mask the movement by fiddling with a button on the cuff of one sleeve, wincing as his fingers graze against a nasty-looking bruise just south of his wrist.</p><p> </p><p>“Kokichi, don’t tell me…” Shuichi groans, his throat too dry to continue. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s said more words to a boy he barely knows tonight than he’s said to his friends throughout the entire week. </p><p> </p><p>He brings a hand to his mouth, clearing his throat. If his voice cracks again and he sounds like a kid going through puberty for the first time, so be it. “How many days has it been?” </p><p> </p><p>“... Why should I tell you ? And what makes you so sure I’ll tell the truth?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s an edge to his words, sharp enough to cut him to the core, and the last words he said to Kokichi during the fourth trial echo faintly in the back of his mind. <br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’ll always be alone.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Kokichi tilts his head back slightly, a soft, bitter laugh rolling off his tongue. “Would you even believe me if I did?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s Shuichi’s turn to fall silent and gaze down at his feet, reliving one of his many past mistakes. But the pause sits tight in his chest, taught like the string of a bow as its archer takes aim, and those piercing purple eyes slice through his soul. He raises his head, meeting the older boy’s gaze once more. His eyes are dangerously bright, brimming with anger, dejection, and something so new and unexpected that it takes Shuichi a minute to recognize. </p><p> </p><p>Grief.</p><p> </p><p>Something in the back of Shuichi’s brain clicks. He’s mourning. Dreaming of what could have been if he hadn’t driven a wedge between himself and the rest of them. He finally understands such a fundamental piece of Kokichi Ouma, but it doesn’t bring him any satisfaction. It’s too cold and hollow to ignite what’s left of his love for deductions. </p><p> </p><p>The truth, ever harsh and punctual, clamps its jaws around his neck, but it’s nothing compared to the agony Kokichi must have endured--must still be enduring. It’s too much for him to carry on his small shoulders, but in the end he had to; there was no one around to help him. Maybe if there had been someone to listen, someone he knew he could trust, like he’d been writing about on the whiteboard in his room--and then it hits him with the force of a speeding train. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That was supposed to be me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Anguish stirs inside of him, clawing at his ribs, and suddenly he can’t bear to be swallowed up by the silence any longer.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I’m sorry, Kokichi,” he rasps, stumbling forward to show him just how much he means this, how much he wants to make things right between them. </p><p> </p><p>Kokichi sighs, shakes his head as if to scold himself for letting his mask slip. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Shuichi. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”</p><p> </p><p>“But in your notes, you said--”</p><p> </p><p>The smaller boy briefly puts a finger to his lips, coaxing Shuichi back into silence.</p><p> </p><p>“I provoked you, it’s my fault. And the things you said about me, they were all true. I knew what I was doing, knew you would hate me for it. I <em> wanted </em>you to hate me for it. That way, I was sure my plan wouldn’t fail. But…” </p><p> </p><p>Kokichi swallows, licking his lips. Whatever he’s trying to say isn’t coming easily, and his facade slowly begins to crumble under the weight of all his trauma, as well as god knows how many sleepless nights. </p><p> </p><p>“I knew that if I wanted to end the killing game before anyone else got hurt, I’d have to give up my chance at being your friend.” </p><p> </p><p>His voice wavers, cracking on the last word before it breaks, shattering the mask he worked so hard to fix in place. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have stayed dead.”</p><p> </p><p>Shoulders shaking, Kokichi opens his mouth as if to laugh it off. Instead, he chokes, letting out a miserable sob. He clasps a hand to his mouth, biting down on his palm to stifle the string of strangled sounds desperately trying to escape. Shuichi stares in awe as the skilled liar who almost single-handedly won the killing game, the boy who claimed he could trick his own emotions into disappearing, starts to cry. </p><p> </p><p>Shuichi doesn’t have time to react. His body acts completely on impulse, feet closing the distance between them. When he blinks the world back into focus, his arms are wrapped around the older boy protectively. Kokichi shudders in his embrace, pressing his face into the taller boy’s chest, choking back a whimper like he wants to avoid sounding pathetic as much as possible. Shuichi holds him tighter, murmurs soft words of comfort into his ears as he unravels in his arms, because it’s all he can do. One hand finds the boy’s spine, gently rubbing his back and pulling him closer, the other stroking his snarled mess of hair. </p><p> </p><p>The fabric of Shuichi’s shirt grows damp, but he doesn’t mind. Right now, he’s preoccupied with more important matters. Kokichi clutches the taller boy’s nightshirt, clinging to him with desperation, like he’s part of a dream and they’ll both wake up at any moment. Shuichi knows better. The boy in his arms might be a liar, but he can’t hide the warmth of his hands. </p><p> </p><p>Kokichi’s grip doesn’t loosen, even when his small frame is no longer wracked by violent sobs, and his heart-wrenching wails fade to weeping. He writhes, gasping for breath to replace what his lungs have lost. There’s a deep ache in Shuichi’s chest, the kind that prompts him to gaze down at the boy in wonder. Shifting down to meet Kokichi, he massages the base of his skull, tenderly cupping his neck in support. The smaller boy mumbles something into Shuichi’s shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” He pries with a curious intonation, tilting his head to one side. </p><p> </p><p>The boy’s eyes are red-rimmed and puffy, cheeks glistening in a cobweb pattern. It takes him a couple shaky breaths to compose himself. Shuichi waits patiently, offering him an encouraging smile.</p><p> </p><p>“It… it’s not fair,” he croaks, glassy and unfocused eyes fixed on Shuichi’s face. “If it meant saving everyone, I was ready to go. I was… at peace. But now I… I don’t know what’s going to happen to me, Shuichi. I don’t know when, or how, or why I’m going to die, I don’t know if it’s going to hurt, or how long it’s gonna take, I don’t want to be here, please take me back--” he’s barely able to catch his breath before Shuichi can intervene. </p><p> </p><p>“I wish they had let me stay dead,” he breathes, trembling with effort. </p><p> </p><p>Shuichi doesn’t know how to respond. Fortunately, some instinct that had been dormant inside of him up until now takes the lead. He cups Kokichi’s face, then tucks his head underneath his chin as if to shield him from the anxieties that plague his traumatized mind. </p><p> </p><p>“Shh, I know. Believe me, I know. Please, don’t say things like that… you deserve to live a good, long life. It’s going to be okay, Kokichi.”</p><p> </p><p>Shuichi tucks a stray lock of hair behind one ear. This way, the other boy can look up at him without anything to obscure his view. “You’re safe now.” </p><p> </p><p>“Promise…?” Kokichi shivers at his touch, leaning into it like a moth drawn to a flame. </p><p> </p><p>Smiling tenderly, Shuichi gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I promise.” </p><p> </p><p>They don’t talk much after that. He cradles Kokichi close like they’re the only two people left on the planet. The thought of separating even for a brief amount of time doesn’t occur to him until he realizes his legs are sore from standing, and the other boy’s must be, too. </p><p> </p><p>He leans over to whisper, “You look cold.” </p><p> </p><p>The smaller boy searches his face, nodding once to answer the unspoken question. Happy to comply, the taller boy pulls back and takes the other’s hand in his, leading him to the bed. And for the first time in weeks, Kokichi sleeps. When he finally wakes, he’ll find himself in the embrace of the boy he loves, still asleep, both of them swaddled in lavender-scented sheets.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>First of all I want to apologize for taking everyone who reads this on a feels trip of epic proportions. Second of all, I'm sorry that I didn't have them give official confessions to each other, but in my defense, I'm also gay and sleep-deprived and I prefer showing love through cuddles instead of words. </p><p>Trust me when I say Kokichi's love isn't unrequited--Shuichi just needs a little time ( and sleep ) to separate Kokichi's lies from the truth about him. I plan on writing another ( roughly just as angsty, but also with a happy ending ) prompt later this week that takes place in the same universe, it'll be kind of a sequel ( this time, Kokichi's going to be the one who has to comfort Shuichi ) . </p><p>I already feel so bad for saying this, but neither of these two works will be the angstiest content I write for these disaster gays, so if you plan on reading even angstier stuff, don't forget to buckle up. </p><p>But uh yeah, I hope you enjoyed reading and didn't cry too much ( or at all ) , I'm glad I was finally able to get some of the angstier headcanons out of my system.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>